


Forget Me Not

by heylissaaaaa



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Post-Game, Pre-Trespasser
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-25
Updated: 2017-09-25
Packaged: 2019-01-05 12:50:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12190320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heylissaaaaa/pseuds/heylissaaaaa
Summary: Esha tries to cope with the loss of her vhenan. Cole gives her what she needs, not what she wants.





	Forget Me Not

**Author's Note:**

> So this is my first fic ever, definitely my first DA fic. If you want something to listen to when you're reading I highly recommend Bloodstream - Stateless. Comments are greatly appreciated! 
> 
> My tumblr is heylissaaaaa. Come cry with me over stuff!

The only light came from the candle on the desk; a worn-out and stubby bit of wax versus the whole of the night. Shadows raged and flickered, a frenzied crowd waiting for the climax of this battle. It would either end in total darkness, or the death of the candle in the morning light. It didn't seem like a fair fight, or even one worth fighting. But Esha supposed that was just the way of it.  
  
She didn't really remember how she had gotten here, standing in the middle of the rotunda with teartracks blazing against her skin. She remembered waking up in her bed, damp and near-heaving over the side of it. She had struggled in the sheets for a few minutes before finally throwing them aside. The stone had been cold underneath her feet, a welcome relief she had chased out onto the battlements.  
  
She had wandered around for the better part of an hour, taking the stillness of the night into the storm in her chest. She had wrapped her arms around herself as if she could keep the stillness in her, will it to be a part of her. She believed it had worked, until she had looked around and found herself in the rotunda, at the eye of her storm.  
  
Her fingers dug into her skin as she rocked back and forth on her feet. They didn't feel like her hands, she didn't want them to be her hands. She wanted them to be _his_. His hands, his arms, his warmth. Esha wanted him to be here, to gather her up and hold her close. He would push the hair away from her bare face and kiss her until she could feel again. He would tell her he was wrong, that he shouldn't have left, that he loved her.  
  
She didn't know how loud she was crying until she wasn't alone. Compassion hovered at the edge of the room, shifting from one foot to the other. She freed her hands and swatted at the watery evidence of her breakdown. She fumbled with her hands for a moment before finally letting them hang loose at her sides.  
  
"Cole," she said. Her chin set at the broken sound of her voice, the colorless way her mouth felt as she spoke.  
  
"You're hurting," he said. It wasn't a question.  
  
Esha shook her head, as if she could deny her current state. Deny the way she seemed as she were never really _present_ anymore. She still ate with her companions, but she no longer laughed the loudest or told stories. She saw the way the others looked at her as silverware scraped plates in silence. They saw how quickly she walked past the rotunda during the day, or how she stared into it when she thought no one was looking. She knew they saw, she knew they pitied her. She didn't want their pity. She didn't want them to think she was weak. But she was.  
  
"If he came back, would you kiss him again? Would you take him into yours arms the way you wish he did now. Or would you push him away? You want to do both. I don't understand." Cole came a little closer now. He still had his hat on, the candlelight making a mess of what little she could see of his face.  
  
"I don't either," she said. She felt the urge to laugh. She sniffed instead.  
  
"Sometimes you think it would be better if you had never met him. You wish that you had never kissed him in the Fade. You wish he had left after you woke up in Haven." He shuffled closer, and he sounded surprised when he spoke.  
  
A new wave of sobs threatened her and she choked them down. But Cole's words gave her an idea. A way out. "Could you make me forget him?" Her voice was stronger as she asked this, and she didn't know whether to breathe a sigh of relief or cry again. A piece of her broke in the face of what she was about to do. But this was the best answer, she knew. She wouldn't be sad anymore, she wouldn't be numb. She could get back to her life and the Inquisition and do all of the things she used to before they had been tainted by him. It was the best answer. It had to be. Esha didn't know what else she could do, or how much longer she could take being broken.  
  
The brim of Cole's hat tipped to one side and he shifted again. "But he made you happy. Do you have to forget him?"  
  
Esha shook her head, surprised by her own eagerness. "The only way to heal my hurt is to make me forget him."  
  
"Why?"  
  
The newest change since he left was how often Esha found herself angry. At him, at herself, at nothing in particular.It was like his leaving had tore through the control she had spent her life building. Not even her dancing could keep the anger away anymore. It would burn through her like her magic before a fight. It ate through her eagerness now and she back away from Cole until her backside hit the desk. Her hands balled into fists as her frame began to shake again. "Because he is an infection. I can feel him flowing through me, as sure and steady as my bloodstream. I see him every time I close my eyes, like he snuck behind the lids and made a home there. Every place he ever touched is numb, the memory of every kiss burns me. Every word he ever spoke haunts me, cutting me open over and over again. I am _dying_ Cole," she said, her voice rising higher and higher until she was screaming by the end of it.  
  
She needed something, anything to get rid of this pain inside her. She turned and in one motion, relieved the desk of its contents, satisfied in the way they crashed to the floor. The candle sputtered out as it hit the ground, tossing wax everywhere in its dramatic death. The rotunda was plunged into darkness for a moment before Esha summoned a little ball of magelight.  
  
Cole was right infront of her now, and she jumped back with a curse. "But what if he comes back?" his voice was impossibly quiet in the wake of her destruction.  
  
The hope in his voice was finally what broke her. She collapsed to the floor, her whole body shaking under sobs that wouldn't come. Cole crouched down next to her but didn't touch her, his hand hovering in the space between them. "He isn't come back Cole," she said, her eyes closed and forehead touching the stone floor. "He isn't coming back."  
  
The silence stretched on between them long for so long Esha thought he had given up. But when she raised her head, he was still there, studying her. "Please," she whispered. "I can't."  
  
When Cole looked at her next, his hat was gone and she found herself looking directly into his eyes. "Are you sure this is what you want?" he asked.  
  
He put a hand on her shoulder and then she wasn't in the rotunda anymore. Well, she was. But it wasn't this rotunda. It was different, warmer. Light poured in from every direction and she saw herself, sitting in the chair while Solas painted. They were talking, discussing something or another, when Solas turned to face her. He had a streak of paint across his forehead, like he had unknowingly dragged his hand across it. She watched herself laugh, and watched Solas' bewildered look turn into a grin as he discovered the paint.  
  
Before Esha had time to mourn the memory, it warped and changed before her eyes. Now they were in the gardens, in the little secluded corner she had claimed for herself. Solas was there with another version of her, his head in her lap as she read to him. He was playing with her hand, manipulating her fingers and tracing them with her own. He kissed each fingertip and the other her stopped reading to watch him. Solas let go of her hand to inquire after why she had stopped reading, and the memory-Esha answered him with a kiss. She had to look away from this memory, tears stinging her.  
  
And then, in the next, Esha watched herself dance. It was late, too late for either of them to still be in the rotunda. She watched them sit, knees touching, on the floor of the rotunda and talk, mouths moving in a conversation she couldn't hear except in her memory. They had talked not about their mission, but about their lives. They talked as people with normal routines and normal families. She told him what she never told anyone, she told him about her dancing. About how the Keeper taught her to dance so that Esha might lose some of her wild heart, and maybe some of her anger. He laughed at something she said, and Esha knew she had just told him that it hadn't worked. He agreed with her. And then he asked to see her dance. And she did. She got up and she danced for him, something she never did not anyone. Esha remembered that night, the night she knew she loved him.   
  
Esha recognized the next memory almost instantly. They were back in the rotunda again, but it was much darker now. This was right after they came back from Mythal's temple. She had drunk from the well, had no choice. Solas had been so determined to be angry with her. She was watching him fight with another her, quiet rage rolling off his imposing form in waves. As the argument wore on, she could see his anger dissipating, turning into a discussion. Finally he relented and took her into his arms again, fitting her against him and stroking her hair. That tender gesture cut her more than anything. Even after a fight, they always found their way back to each other.  
  
"Enough," she said. "I've had enough, Cole."  
  
The walls of the rotunda melted around her, taking their white-washed shape again as the memory's candlelight was replaced with her magelight. It was the same room, but it felt different. Maybe it was just her. Her eyes travelled the room until they landed on Cole again. He was still looking at her, waiting for an answer.  
  
Esha got to her feet, ignoring the barking protest of her knees, and crossed her arms. She turned her back on Cole and headed for the door, letting the magelight go out. "Goodnight Cole." She stopped with her hand on the door. "And thank you."  
  
She shut the door behind her, turning to press her forehead against the rough wood. Taking a deep breath she crossed the Great Hall and climbed the stairs to her quarters. She felt tingly, even her teeth hummed. Getting into the bed, she curled in on herself and stared at the wall until the black wave of sleep overtook her. She did not dream and in the morning she thought maybe things weren't so bad. The door was still closed but maybe that was okay.  
  
He hadn't taken her memories away. But he had given her something instead: hope. That maybe even after this, they could still find their way back to each other.


End file.
